Crooked Remains
by Thats My Name
Summary: :Everything that could have been burns in front of his eyes.: Cato doesn't know what he wants, but he's sure it isn't this.


_My first attempt at Clato, because I ship these two so hard. I hope I kept them in character. Theres some Glimmer/Cato just to keep things interesting._

_Not sure if I like this or not. Hmm._

_Disclaim: I do not own the Hunger Games._

* * *

Glimmer laughed, throwing her head back and flipping her hair to the side. She leaned closer to Cato, rapidly blinking her eyes. Cato couldn't remember if he had even said anything funny.

"Cato, silly, don't make me laugh so hard," she said, laughing again, and playfully ruffling his hair. Cato joined in, craning his neck closer so he could stare into her big blue eyes, framed by long lashes.

Cato sighed, content. "But it would be such a waste to not use such a beautiful laugh."

Of course, this caused Glimmer to burst into giggles that were much too loud to be appropriate for what Cato had just said. She reached over and patted his cheek, trailing her fingers down his jaw and letting them pass over his chin. He raised his eyebrows, and pushed back, away from the table and surveyed the dining room. His table was filled with both tributes from 1 and 3. He glanced around, searching for Clove, his District counter-part.

He didn't see her. She was probably in the gym, sneaking in extra training hours. Cato frowned, wondering why she hadn't asked him to come. They were always at their best when competing against the other.

"Cato?" Glimmer was saying. His head snapped up, back to attention.

"What?"

"I've asked you three times already; do you want to go for a walk?"

Cato rolled his shoulders back and stood up, holding his hand out for Glimmer. "Shall we?" he asked, doing his best impression of a Capitol gentleman. Glimmer smiles, and placed her hand in his waiting palm.

"I believe we shall, good sir." They walked the length of the table, on opposite sides, their hands held up so they don't brush bang against the people still eating. Cato made eye contact with the girl from 12 as he passed, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Their walk only goes as far as the nearest closet, and once their safely inside, they lunge at each other and attack with passionate kisses. Glimmer's fingers knotted themselves in his hair, and her leg latched itself around his waist. Cato pulled her hips close against his, and he thrusts at all the right times and leaves Glimmer gasping his name.

Clove opened the door to their closet ten minutes later, one eyebrow raised. Her arms are crossed and her small frame manages to fill the whole doorway. Glimmer pushed herself away from Cato, and slammed against the opposite wall.

"You can't attack other opponents till you're in the arena," she said dryly, her lips in a tight line. "Sorry to interrupt."

She walked away, her pace brisk and sharp.

As soon as she disappeared, Glimmer closed the door, and pressed herself against Cato once more, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to want to continue.

.

.

Cato searched for Clove the next day in training. He wasn't surprised when he found her ripping apart a stuffed dummy with a jagged dagger. He watched as she smirked at the dismembered head that rolled under her feet.

Cato grabbed his own sword and approached her from behind. He gently poked her shoulder with the tip. She whirled around and easily jabbed her blade at the handle and twisted, forcing him to either let go of his weapon of loose a hand. The sword clattered to the ground.

"Nice maneuver," Cato said, bending down and picking up his sword. "But you might want to work on your reaction time. I had a whole second that I could have used to decapitate you."

Clove scoffed and lunged forward, her blade aimed at his chest. Cato easily raised his sword to intercept her strike. "My reaction time? You didn't even have time to defend yourself."

Cato swept his leg out, trying to knock her feet out from under her. She jumped back, but before she had time to steady herself, the flat of his blade slapped against her chest and knocked her to the ground.

"Again, reaction time," he said, grinning cockily. "If you were quicker, you wouldn't have been off balance, and you might have had a chance at winning." He held out his hand, for her.

She grabbed his hand and tugged him down, so he was lying on his stomach next to her. "And you can't let your guard down." Clove gracefully jacked herself to her feet. She tossed her knife and the tip dug itself into the mat between his chest and arm.

Cato rolled onto his back in time to see her turn the corner into the target practice station. He was grinning as he carefully stood up and ripped the knife from the ground.

.

.

Glimmer is softer than Clove. She smiled easily and openly flirted with Cato at the oddest times. She'll hug his arm and sit so close that she's practically on his lap. Glimmer attracted Cato in a way that he's never felt before.

But Clove is _his_ Clove. She's the girl who he's trained with since he started at the Academy. She's the girl whose glares are the equivalent of an affectionate gaze. The girl who has a heart of stone, and hates in a way that makes it almost endearing. She's infuriating and annoying and rude.

But she gets Cato's drive for glory in a way that no one else has ever come close too.

So when Clove pushed him against the hallway wall, a half hour before their interview, and shoved her tongue down his throat, Cato decided to just see what happens.

She bit hard on his lip in a way that hurts to much to be sexy. Cato grabbed her arms and squeezed, leaving finger shaped marks that slowly blossom into bruises. She grinds her hips against his and dragged her nails down her face.

They aren't kissing for pleasure, not really. It's more of a struggle for dominance, searching for the weak spits, pushing until they found the breaking point.

Over the speaker, a feminine voice announced that all tributes head for the stage entrance at this time. Clove pulled away and walked down the hallway without another word, leaving Cato heaving for breath against the white wall behind him.

.

.

"Why don't you just kill him, now?" Clove asked, her voice harsh and demanding. Her arms were crossed as she stomps slightly ahead of Cato. "He's not good for anything."

"He can help us find _her_," he said. "She's the most dangerous person in this arena right now."

"What makes her so dangerous? She's alone, no allies, no weapon. Nothing particularly threatening."

"Don't you want to know how she got that eleven?" he asked, wiping dried blood off of his sword with the hem of his coat.

Clove laughed bitterly. "That's what this is about? You're upset that she got a better score than you?"

"Can't we just try it for a while? He could be useful."

She stopped walking, turning around and stepping forward so she her face was inches from his. "If he's still here by the end of the week, I'll kill him myself."

She turned again and ran off into the trees, back in the direction of the lake. A moment later, he heard a scream and a cannon fire.

Another kill that would go under Cloves name.

.

.

It's really easy to pretend that one of them doesn't have to die.

Both walk around with confidence, knowing that they're going to win, and not really bothering to think about what it would mean if they did.

Really, they're still just kids. Children running around with silly fantasies that everything will be perfect and they'll get everything they deserve.

They're not a couple, at least not yet. Cato's too focused on his goal, and Clove doesn't have enough of a heart left to love anyone. They stay allies long after the others are either dead or have ditched to run off on their own.

And then they make the announcement, they can both be winners. A tie, something that doesn't sit well with them. Who wants a competition with no real winner?

But when Cato rushed out to kneel beside her, where she lay by the cornucopia, a dent in her skull and a slur to her words, Cato realizes that a tie is exactly what he wants.

.

.

"I guess you were right," Clove whispers, her chest heaving and fighting for breath. "I needed to work on my… reaction time."

Clove's chest stops moving, and her hard eyes soften until there's nothing left in them. Her mouth is slack and hanging open slightly. Cato clenches his jaw and stands.

As he turns around, everything that could have been burns in front of his eyes, and the crooked remains of his life fall apart around him.

* * *

_Please review! I hope you liked!_


End file.
